


Grand Canyon

by brieflyshystarfish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Swan Queen Week, Swan Queen Week Summer 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflyshystarfish/pseuds/brieflyshystarfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a trip is planned, a small creature is introduced, and love is made. </p><p>Written for Swan Queen Week #7 Summer 2016. Prompt: Travel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grand Canyon

It was Henry’s idea.

“Moms,” he had said. “Moms.”

They’d been sitting in the park, Emma unknotting a woefully tangled kite thread in her hands while it danced above their heads, Regina watching Emma’s absorption in her untangling project, all while Regina’s own fingers itched to be naughty–-create knots, maybe, or kill the wind for a second–-but heroically–heroically!–-restraining herself.

Regina sighed unconsciously, tapping her fingers along her thigh. “Yes, Henry?”

“Look,” he said, beaming, thrusting the tablet into Regina’s hands. “Could we go? Violet said–”

Emma snorted and Regina sucked her teeth. Regina’s voice was low and menacing only to those who didn’t know her. Not these two fools. “Violet said what, dear?”

“Uh, well, she said that it was awesome.”

Emma looked up. “Show me! What is it?” Regina handed Emma the tablet. “Oh, no way! Kid, this is awesome! I’ve always wanted to go here.” Emma looked at Regina, wonder on her face. “The southwest, Regina. It’s so beautiful. And aliens.”

“I don’t understand the appeal of this. Why would you want to go see a big rock formation when we can just bring it here?” Regina lazily waved her hand, and the Grand Canyon appeared.

“Mom–-” Henry began hesitantly. Emma sat beside him, kite forgotten, her mouth wide open. “Mom, did you just–-”

“Regina! Put it back!” said Emma.

Regina’s eyes flashed to Emma’s quickly, daring her. This is what she wanted today–-a fight? No–-she felt puzzled. She wanted–-Ugh, too late.

Emma rolled her eyes and flicked her wrists and the apparition was gone. “It’s the real thing he’s after, Regina.”

“Yeah. Moms. We should go camping.”

They both laughed. Out loud. Henry smiled, bemused, then his smile faltered. “You’re still laughing. Now it’s like you’re laughing at me. That’s mean.”

“Henry, it’s just-–Can you imagine your mom camping? She’d be like–--” and Emma affected a terribly conceived Evil Queen voice-–“where are my bed linens? Where are-–”

Regina bristled automatically. “You, Swan? You think you could handle camping? What would you eat? Does your magic even-–”

Emma flicked her wrist again, never breaking contact with Regina’s eyes, and a bright blue tent popped up on the grass beside them. Emma lifted her chin and grinned at Regina. “You were saying?”

Regina immediately changed the color. “Purple’s better.”

Henry laughed and strode to unzip the purple tent. Emma and Regina broke their gazes to watch him. His voice carried a second later, with a little bit of strain and hesitation: “Uh, which one of you did this?”

Regina was on her feet in a split second. “Henry? Is everything okay?”

Emma grinned and covered her eyes.

Henry emerged with a crawling, kicking, licking, squirming–-and at the same time Regina Mills said, “Oh my God, Emma Swan, I will kill-–”

“It’s a puppy!” shouted Henry.

_____

They’d gone back to Regina’s house with pizza and Emma had eaten quickly and somehow magicked up–-how did she get so good at this anyway?–-all the things a puppy needs, plus a bed for him to sleep in and Henry–-god, Henry was so happy. Regina faked horror but mostly she loved small things. So.

The puppy could live.

But Emma-–

Henry was tucked in, everything was cleaned and finished, and Regina had ushered Emma, quickly, to the door, feeling her irritation not yet disappated, aching, yearning to fight with her, restraining herself, just–-ugh.

Then Emma had said: “What’s up, Regina?”

“What exactly do you mean?”

Emma gave her a look. “It’s like you want to, oh, I don’t know, fight me or something.”

“We’ve done that. We don’t do that anymore,” Regina replied, but she saw how Emma saw her bite her bottom lip. “We don’t,” Regina finished weakly.

Emma’s eyes betrayed her for an instant. But not longer. Her voice softened. “Regina.”

Regina’s sharpened in exchange. “Emma, go home. It’s late. Your pooping menace awaits you.”

Undeterred, Emma took a step closer then leaned against Regina’s doorframe. “You could keep him.”

“Hell no.”

“He’d be good for you. Better than-–”

“You?” Regina asked.

Emma let it pass. “Keep me in. Pour me a cider. Talk to me,” she said instead. Emma’s body hadn’t shifted from her fake casual lean. But Regina knew her. And she knew she was close to getting her off her goddamn porch.

They were proud, both of them. And no. Regina did not want to go explore her psyche with Swan. She didn’t want to explore–-

She realized, too late, that her eyes had softened on Emma. And Emma was gazing at her curiously–-knowingly?–-No.

“Goodnight, Emma,” Regina said, praying for ascerbic and landing closer to gentle–-goddamn it–-closing the door.

Emma sighed–-an exaggerated sigh. And walked off the porch. To her the car.

Everything in Regina’s body listened for the motor of the engine to start. It didn’t. Ever. When she peeked out the window four minutes later, curiosity winning over stubbornness, she swore under her breath again. Swan was just sitting in the yellow mess.

Don’t go out there. Don’t go out there. Don’t-–and she found herself gathering her keys and putting on her shoes and moving like a robot to the Savior.

Her only satisfaction was in seeing Emma’s face when Emma got caught. Doing what, who knew. Spying? “Emma-–”

“I’m going home, okay? Jesus.” The hurt was there, not a lot, but there, and Regina felt a pang in her chest.

Goddamn it. “You’re right,” Regina began, finally feeling a little chagrined. Then she noticed the paper crumpled in Emma’s hand. “What is that?”

“None of your business,” and Emma’s voice was low and her fist was clenched around the paper. Then she sighed. And said, her voice still low and her eyes not meeting Regina’s, “I was writing you a note. To make sure you knew you could talk to me.”

“Emma.”

“I’m leaving, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Emma!” Regina raised her voice sharply.

When Emma’s startled eyes met Regina’s, Regina swore again. “Emma. Please come in. You’re right.”

“I’m right about what?”

“I’m insufferable today. And I probably should talk. God.”

Emma looked at her, eyes searching for a second, and then smiled. “Ok.”

“Wait, but what about the puppy?”

Emma grinned. “He’s upstairs with Henry,”

Regina stared at Emma, a confusing boiling set of emotions threatening to collapse over her like a wave, when Regina burst into giggles. Giggles. Regina breathed deeply, collecting herself. Then broke out again. “Oh. Hell.”

She turned on her foot and walked back into her house, not waiting to see if Emma was next to her, knowing, of course, that she would be.

______

 

Henry was sleeping. They were sitting on the couch. Well, Emma was sitting on the couch. Regina was sitting on the very edge of the couch like the couch would eat her if she leaned back too far.

“Fighting is like-–” Regina began, gesturing into the air.

“Fucking,” Emma supplied.

Their eyes met. “Yes,” Regina said slowly. “Swan, you can leave now.”

Emma smiled again, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Stop making me go.”

“Stop provoking me.”

“Too fun. Also, I’m not wrong.”

And that was it. She wasn’t.

Regina exhaled. She counted the beat of seconds between them, felt Emma’s tension dissolve, felt her own–-surprisingly/–wane. She finished her glass. They stayed silent. Regina thought: Emma knew. She had always known. Asshole. Savior. But mostly asshole.

Emma, as always, was the one to break the silence. “So, camping?”

Emma’s voice, though? When she said that? Her voice was warm, and tremulous, and something washed through it, and it washed through Regina, and even though she wanted to keep pretending when she looked at Emma, traced the sound of her voice to her eyes, wanted to pretend that it was all fine, and didn’t matter, she knew keenly now, when she found Emma’s eyes, not accusing, not even frightened, glittering and soft and–-present. It was so obvious to Regina, then.

She fought Emma because she wanted Emma.

And Emma knew. And Emma had stayed. Which meant–-

And Emma rose fluidly, and smiled, with her eyes this time, her shoulders relaxed, and said, “Regina, I’m going to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

And Regina nodded, and they smiled at each other, walls erected once more, and when Regina shut the door after Emma she heard the engine roar to life.

And for the first time in a long time, she did not feel as alone as she had, paused with her hand on the banister, listening now for the soft, even breaths of her son and his newest friend upstairs.

She wandered back into the study, her footsteps uncertain, telling herself that it was to collect the mess–-what mess, there was no mess, just two glasses and a finished bottle of cider–-and she sat where Emma had sat and breathed her in a bit and lay back, and let, for the first time in a long time, a set of emotions sweep over her that pained her as much as they made her feel alive–-  
and that night Regina took a shower downstairs. And rocked herself over her fist and fingers and moaned into the palm of her other hand and let the water see her and prayed she wouldn’t wake anybody. Her body the livest wire. Wanting Emma.

It was foolish, but she did it, as soon as she dried her body and sunk into bed. Text: Home safe?

The reply came less than a minute later: yeah

Then a second reply: don’t dream too much about me

Hell no on no uncertain–-hell no Regina would not reply to this. But. Because Regina was alone, she could grin. She could let her heart explode because she would have all night to gather it back together.  
It did.

She did.

_________

 

How in the hell are we going to go camping like this? she wanted to ask Emma. But Emma just made preparations like it was nothing, instructing Henry about fiber cereal and peanut butter and showing him how to break in his boots and set up and take down the tent and light a propane stove. And Regina watched Emma, and sometimes Emma turned around to wink at her, or laugh at her, and Regina would wince, but her eyes were soft now, always soft, and edged with a hunger she wasn’t sure she could show Emma.

And maybe it was nothing, after all, maybe it was just her imagination. One, two weeks passed with no mention of that conversation and no arguing, either, just this, the two of them just willingly moving into and out of each other’s space without a problem.

Had Emma–-tamed her? Hell no. Regina shook her head. The thought flew away.

They were going to go in a normal way–-as in, a no magic way–-getting on an airplane and flying into Phoenix and renting a car and driving north to Salt Lake City, taking a week and camping along the way. Henry was beside himself. And the puppy–-who had remained nameless still–-was coming too. Henry wanted Violet to come but that–-no. Too much. Too young. Too early.

And Emma–-Regina had to give it to her. Left in her capable hands, trip preparations were easy. She smirked, thinking that all of Emma’s theiving travel probably helped, but the smirk smoothed out when she realized that this is also for her. The lessons for Henry, for example, never happened when Regina’s not there. Regina, mid-thought, realized that she knows things because Emma, as much as she’d been teaching Henry, had been teaching her, too.

It should infuriate her, the trick, but it just makes a warmth spread in Regina’s belly.

There had two weeks left. And she had seen Emma every day, and felt how quiet she was around the Savior now, all hesitance and gentleness, and how could Emma not see this shift? And was this okay?

And hardly a late late night of next two weeks will pass without Regina’s hands between her own thighs, shaking, coming, relieved, and yet startlingly adrift, then pressing her own hands to her own heart to quell the loudness there.

________

Everything was fine until two nights before they left.

“The flight’s not that early, Emma,” Regina said, a frown creasing her head. “It’s also not tomorrow.”

“I need to stay here,” Emma insisted.

Regina raised her voice. Something in her was close to snapping, dangerously so. “Emma, I don’t understand-–”

“Moms.” Henry stood in the doorway of the kitchen, squinting. “What time is it?”

“Way too late for you to be awake, kid,” said Emma, reaching out to touch his hair. “Go back to sleep. Everything’s okay.”

He eyed them suspiciously before climbing the staircase back to his room. When he was out of sight, the women turned to one another again.

“Regina,” Emma sighed.

“I mean, if you want to, that’s fine, it’s just-–” Regina broke off, short, exhausted, so angry without knowing–-why Emma had to be in her space all the goddamn-–never letting her breathe-–

“Just what? You don’t want me around?” Emma’s voice was tired, but that eternal note of challenge was there. “I thought we were fine.”

Regina looked confused, then shook her head, and sighed, forcing the anger to drain out of her. “No. Of course we are. Don’t be silly.”

Emma’s brow relaxed. “Okay. So I stay, then.”

“Yes,” Regina said, then leaning against the counter. “Yes.”

Emma closed her eyes. She reached up and rolled the pads of her fingers over her own temples. Her expression calmed.

“Emma, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she exhaled. “Are you?”

Nobody else would have noticed the hesitation. The beat before Regina replied, “Yes. Let’s get you ready-–”

“Regina.” And Regina’s eyes flew to Emma’s, and she heard something in the three syllables of her name, which Emma had just enunciated with a strange pull in her voice. “Regina, I don’t want to push you, I’ve been trying hard to be really easy-–”

“Emma, I’m fine.” This was Regina, unsuccessfully trying to pull a wall down between them.

And this was Emma, closing the space between them, hesitant, as if she didn’t trust what she was about to say. “You’re not fine. You’re-–”

“What am I, Emma? Tell me. Because I-–” and Regina’s eyes looked nearly black as universes, shining at Emma, enraged and longing, and her voice choked, fury mingled with sadness, with want-–“I thought you-–”

“Regina,” Emma said so softly, crossing the last bit of distance between them to touch her arm. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

Emma hesitated, and her eyes were shining now too, and she was withholding, Regina felt it, but all Emma said was: “Hurt. Please don’t hurt, Regina.”

Regina stared at her, and pulled away, furious at herself for allowing this to happen, allowing herself to be this–-this open–-this foolish and longing for–-

Emma followed her, and this time there was strength in her voice. “Regina. Dammit, Regina. Stop.”

Regina stilled but did not turn around, stubborn to the last. And this is why she was shocked into silence to feel–-not arms around her, exactly, but hands, Emma’s hands, reaching into Regina’s hair from behind, lifting her hair with one hand while Emma’s lips grazed the newly exposed skin on Regina’s neck, kissing her now, kissing her earlobe and the back of her neck and her temple, and Emma’s other arm circled around Regina’s waist and holding her tight against her body. Regina shuddered and Emma leaned in closer, breathing into her, grazing her now with her teeth, loving her into submission–-

Regina gasped, and Emma let go, both stumbling away and then back towards each other. And when they caught each other, staring into each other as if the other was–-a mirror, a clue, a home–-and Emma closed her eyes and leaned in, Regina put her hand on Emma’s chest and pushed her, achingly, pushed her away, and instantly regretted it, and stepped forward quickly, her hand under Emma’s chin and kissed her hungrily.

Everything burned in the best possible way. Regina reached for Emma, for her body to be open to hers, sliding her tongue and teeth against Emma’s mouth, the sheer heat and want between them impossible; she felt Emma’s moan building, and now Regina pushed her up against the kitchen cabinets, and they were–-shit, shedding clothing–-and no, so Regina pulled Emma behind her and they stumbled into the small bathroom on the first floor, and this is all she wanted, this is all she has wanted–-

And Emma was staring into Regina’s body, as if it was a holy thing, as if Regina is too much beauty and consequence for Emma, and Emma began stripping them both and running her tongue along Regina’s inner thigh, Regina who stood there, knees buckling as Emma had dropped down on her own knees now, nudging then parting Regina’s legs so that she could tease her tongue and then slide her tongue into Regina’s heat and wet. And they moaned at that contact at the first moment. Emma grasped Regina’s ass and hoisted Regina’s leg over Emma’s shoulder as Emma pushed her tongue deeper in, Regina losing control over even basic thinking, one hand tangled in Emma’s hair and the other splayed against the wall she’d been leaning on for support–-

And this, this was everything, this was everything shattering and building inside of her, and she wanted so badly to come for Emma, with her and for her, she wanted the singing inside of her to never stop, so she thrust into Emma’s mouth once, twice, and twisted her body up and came so hard she couldn’t breathe. Shocks quaked her body and she let them, she let them quiver her heels to head, and when the rolling stopped and Emma stopped kissing her, there, Regina knelt down, a puddle, a mess, wanting Emma, wanting Emma, pulling Emma’s head back and just kissing and kissing her, until Emma gathered her in both arms and smiled into her mouth and ducked her head against Regina’s shoulders and they both breathed there one, two, three beats. And then Regina pushed Emma down on the rug on the floor and kissed her roughly, because she knew, she felt instinctively what to do with Emma, kneading now their hips together and feeling Emma buck under her, eyes on Emma’s eyes, Emma’s lips plump with Regina, and it is then that Regina realized that they were whispering each other’s names, and she heard them, and ground harder into Emma’s hips until Regina grit her teeth and came again, unexpected, a soft blow through her entire body and Emma grinned and giggled, totally delighted. Regina covered Emma’s mouth with her hand, teasing her, taking Emma’s nipples in her mouth, back and forth, her teeth lightly ministering, her hands over Emma’s sex, teasing her, kissing her, tasting her, selfish, tasting and kissing and biting her until Emma gasped roughly and murmured, “I didn’t make you wait this long”–-and she’s right, Regina knows this, so she dipped her head and drags her tongue and lips through Emma, and now Emma is the livest wire, and Emma is coming and coming and Regina is thrusting fingers in her and running her tongue over every inch of that tight bundle of nerves and when Emma contracts around Regina’s hands Regina knows they will be together, that this is a love thing, this is a miracle.

They made it to bed later, but barely. And when they got into bed they could not stop kissing. It was so many kisses, purely kisses, naked except for panties and no shirts and kisses and kisses until they fell asleep, drunk on this contact.

____

In the morning they woke tangled, and within seconds of each other. And Regina was silent, not knowing what to say, but refusing to be guarded, and Emma just looked at her, looked and looked and looked at her, and Regina reached for Emma’s hand, and Regina put Emma’s hand on her own heart and twined their fingers and closed her eyes.

When she woke up later the bed was cool and light streamed in the window. She heard Emma’s voice from the doorway, soft, different, lilting somehow. “I told Henry you needed to sleep. That you had let me in.” She tossed Regina a beautiful shirt she’d found, Regina guessed, in the dresser.

Their eyes caught. Snagged. “Emma,” Regina started, and there was something even she could not process or identify in her own voice.

Emma’s face became a mask. “See you downstairs in a minute, okay? We made breakfast.” She turned to leave

“Emma.”

“What?” She whirled around, and Regina caught the fear. Fear. Emma was afraid.

“Please. Come.”

Emma smirked a bit, and Regina flushed. No. Yes. Emma hesitated, then walked over and perched on the side of the bed. “Emma…It’s okay.”

Emma’s head whipped up and she took Regina in. Registered the words. Still asked: “What?”

Regina fought the panic that so easily used to lay claim to her. “You. Are. Enough.” She breathed. “Emma, I have always felt-–”

Emma licked her lips and looked at Regina, an odd mixture of sad and curious and so, so, wanting. “Regina, you don’t have to-–”

Regina’s voice, impossibly, impossibly soft. “I’m in love with you.” 

Emma stared at her and stared at her, her her eyes bright with every conceivable emotion, and then she let out a yell and tackled and pinned Regina beneath her, laughing. “No. You can’t be.”

Regina grinned from beneath her, right up into her face. “Yes, yes.”

Emma considered her from beneath a wave of messy, bright hair. “Regina.” She bit her lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now I want my breakfast. Can you please get off-–”

And Emma leaned down and kissed her so softly Regina’s breath left her body in a whoosh. She relaxed completely under Emma’s touch, and all Emma did was kiss her, lightly, every bit of her lip, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, and then back down to her mouth, flicking her tongue meditatively against Regina’s tongue, then deepening and drawing up to breathe.

“Me too,” Emma murmured. Then: “We needed this. We’ve always been–this.” She sat up again, and Regina pushed her off of her.

“Did you always know?” Regina asked.

“No. Yes. Since the park. I knew since then.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? You were playing all these games--" Regina cut herself off abruptly, feeling exasperation rise. 

“Because I knew you would fight me. I knew it would happen when you were ready. We were always endgame,” Emma said quietly. “And I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of how much–of how much–” and Emma gestured futilely at her own heart, and Regina inhaled sharply. "We are a mess.“

“Yes.”

“Now we get to go camping for eight days together and not tell our child.”

“Why don’t we,” Regina said gently. Thoughtfully. She held Emma--this Emma, who she loved, in her eyes. “We could.”

Emma gazed at her, a longing breaking over her face that again stole all of Regina’s breath away.

And they did. Tell him. And he’s Henry so he was cool. And had probably written most of it down or whatever already. And that meant they were-–a unit. Three of them. And Henry was happy. And Regina was happy. And Emma was happy. And the nameless puppy was happy. And when Henry took the small nameless puppy out on small walks on the campgrounds Regina would wait till he was gone to kiss Emma softly, not too much, not teasing, because it could all wait until they got home, but to create heaven for her in the small in betweens.

Which meant that Henry took a picture of them, the two of them, at the Grand Canyon, fingers linked loosely as they surveyed the infinite creation in front of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please write a thought!


End file.
